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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24091465">For You, There's Nothing In This World I Wouldn't Do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterXAssassin/pseuds/WinterXAssassin'>WinterXAssassin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fett Clan Archives [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Sibling Relationship, Ahsoka is a good lil sister, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brother-Sister Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional release, Feels, Heavy Angst, Mando'a, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post Episode: s07e12 Victory and Death, Post-Canon, Rex loves Ahsoka so much, Sibling Love, poor Rex is really having a time of it!!!!, she is as important to him as his brothers are, trauma aftermath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:35:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24091465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterXAssassin/pseuds/WinterXAssassin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody said you had to be blood to be family.</p><p>Ahsoka's just as much as sibling to Rex as the Clones next to him. He loves her just as dearly as he does them.</p><p>And in his darkest hour, his little sister is there for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CT-7567 | Rex &amp; Ahsoka Tano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fett Clan Archives [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>For You, There's Nothing In This World I Wouldn't Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: Soooo, I'm a dingus who totally forgot about the fact that Rex's other breakdowns were, in his mind, really heavy for him (they <em>are</em>, but not nearly to the extent of this one!).... And also I guess I made a booboo when I forgot I was writing in nonlinear narrative, in that Rex seems to have <em>forgotten</em> the breakdown that happens here, when he's experiencing later ones (because those earlier works come AFTER this one, timeline wise!!!!)<br/>BUT! I have a solution to rectify the stupid, and it comes in the form of another oneshot I'm planning out, which will be set AFTER this one, and most likely actually be posted after this one in order XD (we'll see)</p><p>....Ehe, yeah, had to get that out of the way, first.<br/>Go ahead and soak up the feels, the angst, the sibling hurt/comfort. Also this is PURELY platonic, as stated in the tags; I <em>do not</em>, and <em>will never</em> ship or write Re//xso//ka as anything but, because them in a romantic context just. doesn't sit right with me.</p><p>Fic title taken from <em>Hey Brother</em> by AVICII, a song that is definitely fitting for this</p><p> </p><p>  <strike>fuck yeah platonic intimacy is GREAT fun to write hahah</strike></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rex feels like he can’t breathe.</p><p>Guilt and grief, marring together, are a lead weight in his chest. There’s a sharpness, every time he inhales and exhales, that makes him think like he’s got cracked ribs. But he doesn’t — he’s not injured, not in the physical sense. These pains aren’t even real; they’re nothing more than manifestations of his emotional turmoil.</p><p>How many of his brothers did he lose? How many of them did he have to bury? How many helmets made up that memorial?</p><p>So many of them, slaughtered by Maul. Some of them killed when Ahsoka deflected their blaster bolts into their armour. And some of them were shot dead by his own hand. The rest perished in the crash, thanks to Maul destroying the <em>Venator’s</em> hyperdrive.</p><p>Hundreds, if not thousands of his brothers, <em>gone</em>.</p><p>He couldn’t save them.</p><p>Kix, Jesse, Hardcase: he wonders if those three are all the brothers he has left. He doesn’t know how Fives and Echo are faring on Kamino, if they're even still there at all. Doesn’t know what's happened to Cody, or Fox, or Keeli, or Colt. Doesn’t know how many of his brothers are dead, across the galaxy, and how many are nothing but thralls to Sidious.</p><p>And the Jedi. How many of them have died? He wonders if it’s all of them. He wonders if perhaps Ahsoka is the last of their kind... and yet, she’s not, because she left the Order. Perhaps there’s not a single Jedi remaining. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s happened to General Skywalker, or Kenobi, Koon, Secura, Yoda. And oh, <em>kriff</em>, what about the Padawans? Were they, too, slaughtered? Cut down like they were nothing more than defenseless sheep?</p><p>He curls his hands into fists, bows his head. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. He doesn’t know what to do, where to go. He’s so <em>lost</em>.</p><p>“Rex?”</p><p>Ahsoka’s quiet voice sounds from somewhere behind and above him. He doesn’t move. Doesn't want to look up at her, because he knows the tears pooling in his eyes will start sliding down his cheeks, as soon as he sees the concern in her face. Just as they’d done so many hours ago, when he’d yelled at her that his brothers would stop at nothing to—</p><p>The Togrutan appears in his line of sight, bending down to look into his eyes. His vision wobbles, blurs, but he can faintly make out her eye markings tightening in an indicator of her anxiousness for his wellbeing. And he can’t take it, can’t take the softening of her expression, the pain flickering in her eyes. He inhales, and the breath hitches, shakes on the exhale. He doesn’t want to lose it, to break down, but he can’t get ahold of himself anymore.</p><p>He’s so <em>tired</em>, weariness settling deep into his bones.</p><p>“Oh, Rexster... Come here.” Her arms wrap around his shoulders, draw him towards her. He goes with the motion, too tired to fight, too tormented to resist or protest. He leans against her, inhales another shaky breath, and sobs on the exhale.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly, fingers working through his buzzed blond hair. The touch is familiar and comforting; some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders.</p><p>He has to work up the energy just to answer her. “No,” he mutters hoarsely, and his voice sounds so <em>small</em>. Another sob claws its way free of his throat, and he presses his face into her shoulder. It’s all he can say; he can’t even elaborate. But it doesn’t matter; he’s sure she’ll understand him regardless. She’s known him for long enough now to read between the lines when it comes to his emotions.</p><p>“I won’t push you.” Ahsoka murmurs, and for that, he’s grateful. She’s always looked out for those around her; it’s why so many Clones looked up to her, why so many of them thought of her as one of their own. “That being said... I don’t need to use the Force to know that you’re in pain, that you’re suffering. And I want to help you. You don’t need to tell me what’s going on, but... I do think that you need to cry. As awful as it might sound, it will be good for you to have that emotional release. You can’t leave it all bottled up inside you. It won’t do you any good.”</p><p>The only response Rex can give is a strangled whine. It <em>hurts</em>, it hurts <em>so karking much</em>. The pain is sharp, and heavy, and dull, all at once; consuming, encompassing. He’s drowning in it.</p><p>And yet, through it all, Ahsoka is <em>right there</em>, comforting him, cradling him close. She won’t leave him. She never will. Her presence eases him, even if it’s only a little.</p><p>Her hands briefly still in their soothing motions in his hair, so that she can press a kiss to the top of his head. “<em>Ner ori’vod</em>,” she breathes, “<em>ner ori’vod</em>, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go, I promise.” Then she resumes carding her fingers through his hair, holding him, grounding him, his anchor in the storm.</p><p>He wants to scream, but he can’t, he can’t, he <em>can’t</em>, because it’s stuck in his throat, and it won’t come out, because it’s just trapped in there. And all he can do is whimper quietly, cling to his little sister like a lifeline, and try to breathe.</p><p>It feels so damn <em>childish</em>, but she’d told him that it was okay, that it would do him some good. And he believes her, he does, because in this, she knows more than he does.</p><p>There’s a gentle nudge, a tap at his mind, and he belatedly realizes that she’s encouraging him through the Force. A wordless reassurance of <em>let go, Rex, let it out, and scream</em>. And then, and then, screwing his eyes shut tight, he opens his mouth and he <em>bays</em>, anger-guilt-anguish-torment-grief pouring out like a flood, like a dam bursting wide open.</p><p>His body shakes with the force of it all, with the broken sobs that tear their way free, with the violent outpouring of emotion. Throughout, Ahsoka is silent, but just her presence is enough for him right now. She simply holds him, lets him bleed his emotions out all over her, keeping up the steady rhythm of running her fingers through his hair. Perhaps, perhaps she begins to cry too, but he can’t even tell for sure; he’s lost in letting go, and it will be a long time before he finally comes back to his senses, comes back to himself.</p><p>And when it’s over, an eternity later, Rex sags against Ahsoka, completely drained of all his energy. He’s tired, spent, and yet his body still trembles, the tears still slide down his cheeks.</p><p>“Sleep, Rex,” his Commander, his sister, whispers to him in Mando’a, and kriff, if the urge isn’t so compelling that he gives in immediately. His shoulders droop, and his eyes close in a way that is more relaxed, more natural than before. And then, and then, sleep overcomes him like a gentle wave, and Rex knows no more.</p>
<hr/><p>Slowly, slowly does Rex wake, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings, one thing at a time. The first thing he notices is that he’s not standing up, nor is he a crumpled heap on the floor. There’s a bed beneath his back, and it’s <em>soft</em>, so much softer than the hard barracks cots he’s used to. The next thing he notices is that he’s warm, a blanket swimming around his hips, and a steady weight curled into his flank. A sideways glance tells him that it’s Ahsoka, quietly reading something on a datapad, with the screen brightness turned low so as not to disturb him.</p><p>Last thing he realizes, is that his head <em>aches</em>. A dull, encompassing throb, that aches, makes him want to curl his hands into the mattress, or perhaps throw up—</p><p>Suddenly, as quickly as he notices the headache, it’s gone. As though it’s simply been brushed away by an invisible hand, cool and refreshing. He releases a confused hum, and he’s met with wordless reassurance, edged with the warmth and familiarity that is Ahsoka.</p><p>“What...” he rasps, and winces at the sound of his own voice. Swallows, sighs, lets his head droop back against the pillow once more.</p><p>“I used the Force to calm your headache.” Ahsoka grasps one of his hands, rubs her thumb over the calloused knuckles. “You’ve already been through enough.”</p><p>Rex lets that sink in, and he closes his eyes. “Thankyou, ’Soka,” he says, grateful, genuine, “Not just for that, but for... last night, or however many hours ago that was. I-I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t... I needed to get that out more than I realized. It’s been awhile since I’ve let go, and... never in such a capacity.” There had been a storm brewing in his mind, for so long, and finally, he can no longer feel it. It’s just... <em>gone</em>.</p><p>Even without being able to see her face, he knows that Ahsoka’s smiling at him; he can hear it in her voice. “That’s what little sisters are for,” she answers, amused and serious all at once, “To watch your six, and to look after you when you’re down.”</p><p>“Yeah...” He breathes out, relaxes. “Yeah.”</p><p>Silence drifts between them, comfortable and amicable. Rex breathes, breathes, sinks into the world around him. To the humming of the ship’s engines. To the quiet <em>tap, tap, tap</em> of Ahsoka’s fingers against her datapad. To the very near presence of his brothers, unseen, unheard, but <em>felt</em> all the same.</p><p>It’s nice. It feels like... like home.</p><p>But there’s still something, just a small, barely there <em>something</em>, that isn’t quite <em>right</em>.</p><p>“’Soka?” he murmurs.</p><p>“Hmmm?” She shifts, sets the datapad aside, rolls over to face him. Concern flashes in her eyes of bright blue. “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No, I...” He furrows his eyebrows, thinks about it. Maybe he just wants to hold his sister. Maybe he just wants to revel in the close presence of one of his family. “C’mere.” He reaches out, gently grasps her waist, to pull her on top of him and press their foreheads together. It’s something he’s done with many a fellow Clone, many times before, sometimes for comfort, sometimes for warmth, and other times <em>just because</em>. He’s not yet done it with Ahsoka, but here and now... it feels like it only drives the point home that she’s just as much of a sibling to him as Wolffe or Dogma or Tup.</p><p>After all, family does not always have to be about blood.</p><p>The Togruta sighs contently and nestles into his larger frame. “...It’s good to be back,” she admits softly, and Rex rumbles a low hum of agreement, rubs their noses together in another gesture of affection that’s familiar among the <em>vode</em>, taught to them by Jango, so long ago.</p><p>This is <em>right</em>. This is <em>home</em>.</p><p>“Good to have you back, little’un.”</p>
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